Less than a Whisper
by theroguebirdy
Summary: SPOILERS FOR BATMAN INC #8 Ever since Jason came back from the dead, he has been able to see things everybody else can't. He's kept this secret all his life until the ghost sightings start getting worse. Rated T for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

I was about sixteen when I saw my first ghost.  
It was around six months after I was brought back from the dead, when it was easy to write off things like that to my overactive imagination and still-not-quite-sane mind. And at first, I had tried to convince myself that it was only that, but soon after, the spirits started appearing in greater numbers and more often.

I've seen plenty of ghosts since then, but nothing will ever compare to the weight that I felt land on my shoulders when I saw that first transparent face. I couldn't do anything. I had been frozen with fear as he stared at me, a sad expression flickering over the half-visible face. His dark brown hair was flat against his head, and he had worn a white shirt stained with red. He had reached out to me as if to grab my hand, and then as suddenly he appeared, he vanished.  
To this day, it is still a mystery as to why I can see things others can't. Tim says it's because I came back from the dead. That once you cross over onto the other side, you'll never shake your new connection to the afterlife.

I don't know what to believe.

Bruce doesn't know about it. Neither does Dick. I chose not to tell them for obvious reasons; they would never believe me. And it would give Bruce yet another excuse to put me in therapy.  
Tim knows purely by accident.

* * *

I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling when Tim walked in and sat on the edge of my bed. I turned my head towards him. "Hey, baby bird. What's up?"

Tim sighed. "Damian just drove me out of my room. Is it okay if I hang with you for a little while?"

I nodded. At first, Tim and I didn't have the closest relationship. I did try to kill him, once...  
But over time, I calmed down and we were on speaking terms. I wanted him to be my Robin when Dick replaced him with Damian. Tim refused, insisting that my 'methods' for dealing with criminals were too extreme. Even though he declined, we helped each other out from time to time. I was still on the outs with Bruce and the rest of the family before old Bats disappeared, but Tim kept in touch with me. When Bruce returned, I started working with Roy and Kori. Bruce then contacted me about being part of Batman Inc., and I reluctantly accepted. The only catch was I had to permanently change my identity to that of Wingman, because Red Hood was a well-known criminal. So, now I had not only a new identity, but I also had my old room back at the manor.

"Is the demon putting death traps in your room again?" I asked him.

Tim shrugged. "Hell if I know. That kid still hates me, even after he stole my job."

I raised my eyebrow "Shit, little bro, looks like you finally are seeing things my way."

Tim fell back against the bed. "Yeah, I just wish he wasn't so arrogant. I swear that kid has a superiority complex the size of a small country."

I chuckled. "Well, look at the people he's related to. Between Bruce, Talia and Ra's, I sure as hell am glad I am not in that family tree."

Tim laughed in his turn. "Yeah, that's true. As messed up as our family is, it will never compare to being the son of Talia and the grandson of Ra's al Ghul."

"Hell, I spent months with them, and I didn't even know what they di- ugh." I rubbed the bridge of my nose between two fingers, fighting back the sudden wave of dizziness as it swept over me, along with a nauseating pain that pulsed behind my eyes and throbbed all along my jaw.

Tim sat up. "What's wrong?"

I grunted, blinking slowly. This really had come out of nowhere. "I just got a splitting headache."

"You need me to get you an Aspirin?" he asked, a concerned frown on his face.

"No, no… I'm... fine," I insisted, although it wasn't true by any stretch of the imagination.

And that's when it happened.

My head felt like it was split open. I gritted my teeth and rubbed my forehead, trying not to cry out. Grown men, least of all grown vigilantes, don't shout at a headache, I reminded myself.

Then, in the other side of my field of vision, ghostly, translucent faces and bodies appeared. They were everywhere. I couldn't even see Tim anymore, just those faces and their hands as they reached out for me. All of them looked as if they wanted something from me.

A second later, the headache intensified, and I started to recognize them. My parents, my stepmother, Tim's parents, Dick's parents; even Thomas and Martha Wayne joined the group, and a few men that I've killed on various drug busts. They all looked like they were trying to warn me about something, something important.  
And they were all standing in front of a large circle of black.

My mother pointed at me, and then pointed at it, her red hair whipping around her face and into her eyes, which held something I couldn't quite decipher but somehow knew to fear-compassion? Or perhaps she was merely afraid for me. I instinctively knew, that it was the entrance to the world of death, the world I had escaped.

They didn't have to speak. The look on their faces said it all: _You shouldn't have lived. You need to come back with us…_

I started screaming now, and it was from fear, not the migraine.

I've had seen ghosts before, but it was never like this. The pain was indescribable. My head felt like an atomic bomb was going off in my skull, and the wispy creatures, barely more than stick figures with eyes now, were pulling me towards the black hole in the middle of the room. I could feel Tim grab me and try to hold me down.

"No, no, no!" I yelled batting my arms, desperately hoping it would make them go away. That I'd perhaps have some hold on them. "Go away!" I screamed, voice hoarse.  
The headache got so bad that black spots swam across my vision, and I knew I was going to pass out. Though I would be grateful for it making the pain go away, I couldn't stand the thought of being helplessly pulled into the sinkhole in the center of my room.

The black spots grew larger and larger, until their faces disappeared and I was dragged under.

* * *

Eventually, I woke up in the medical bay of the cave, with Bruce, Tim and Dick standing over me. "Jason? Are you alright?" Bruce asked, and his voice was more worried than even he would have admitted.

"Just peachy, obviously," I grumbled.

"What happened to you, Little Wing?" Dick inquired. "I was down here working with Bruce when Tim carried you down the stairs. He said you had a panic attack and passed out."

Tim gave me a look that clearly said, _I left out some details, but you are going to explain what happened._

"Uh, it was nothing, really. Just a really bad headache. I didn't have a panic attack."

This technically wasn't a lie.

Bruce gave me a look saying he didn't fully believe me, when Dick added, "A migraine?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I guess. I haven't eaten anything all day. Hence the massive headache."

Bruce narrowed his eyes, and I almost rolled my own eyes. Not the Batglare again. "Why haven't you eaten anything?" he questioned, tone stern.

"I don't know, Bruce. I just haven't been hungry lately. Maybe I'm getting sick, or something." I said, and wished fervently that I was a good enough liar to fool the Bat. "Now, if we're done playing 20 questions, I'm going to go get some rest."

"Okay, Jason. I'll have Alfred bring up some soup for you in a little bit. In the meantime, get some rest." Bruce ordered.

I could tell by the look he gave me that he was still suspicious, but right now he decided not to interrogate me.

"Thanks."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and walked lazily up the stairs to the study, with Tim following behind me. When I got to my room, I sat down on my bed. Tim closed the door and looked at me expectantly, a little disgust in his eyes.

Typical. He always was the nitpickiest of the Robins, even about lying.

"Jay, what happened back there?" Before I could utter a word, he cut me off. "And do not say it was just a headache."

Damn, if I couldn't fall back on that answer, then I didn't know what to say.

"I want to help you, Jason." Tim added.

"I don't need any help. I'm fine."

Tim wasn't having any of it. "Well, you weren't fine half an hour ago, when you were screaming your head off."

"I'm fine now," I replied sullenly, not meeting his eyes.

"What happened then?" I could see he didn't believe me, not at all. "Why were you screaming? What did you mean when you yelled 'go away'?"

I considered my options as lying went, but couldn't really say anything. To my surprise and disgust, my eyes started to water.

"Jason," Tim asked quietly, in a voice that wasn't far from sounding scared. "Please."

Something in the way he said it broke me. It was hard for me to lie to him, since he was with me when it happened. I looked down, staring at the red rug on the floor.  
"Ghosts," I whispered, hating how silly it sounded. "I saw ghosts."

He definitely hadn't expected that answer, but honestly, how could he? A heavy silence fell. Finally, Tim spoke in a wavering voice.

"W-what do you mean?"

I swallowed hard, but the lump in my throat didn't go away. "I saw ghosts," I repeated, taking a shaky breath. "It's been happening ever since I came back from the dead. But what you just saw was the worst vision, sighting, experience, whatever the hell you want to call it. I know it sounds crazy, but it's real; my parents, your parents, Dick's parents, heck, even Bruce's parents were there, and they weren't alone. There were others with them."

I waited then, not sure what to expect. Would Tim laugh? Tell me I was crazy? Accuse me of lying and demand to know what actually happened?

"Why is this the first time I've heard about this?" Tim finally asked. "didn't you tell me? Do you know what it was like to see you like that and not know what was happening? Do you know how scared I was?"

I was too stunned to speak, both from his outburst and the fact that he believed me.

I swallowed again, and a little of the lump went away. Maybe telling the truth every once in a while would do me good.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" he asked, frantically. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have believed me?" I paused, and resumed my moody stare, this time at the curtains. "Because I know for damn sure that Bruce, Dick and the Demon wouldn't."

Tim dejectedly dropped his shoulders and sat next to me. "You are probably right. Had I not seen you have the vision, I wouldn't have believed you either. But the way you explain it makes sense. I mean, just looking at the stuff we face on a daily basis... Seeing ghosts isn't exactly that far of a leap."  
Tim took a deep breath, then continued, "But that doesn't explain why it happens at certain times. We have to figure out why it happens when it does, and what the spirits are trying to tell you."

"We?" I asked.

"Of course. I'm not leaving you alone on this. You're my big brother; you'd do the same for me." He replied, pausing for a moment. "Probably."

"Damn straight, Timmy." I grinned.

Three months have passed since that day. So far, I haven't had another ghost sighting as painful as that one. Also, Tim and I have been trying to figure out what the significance of that particular sighting was.

We didn't get our answer until two days ago.

That was when the spirit of Damian Wayne appeared before me.


	2. Chapter 2

"No," I said softly, eyes wide.

I was afraid this would happen; had harbored the secret fear that he would return incomplete, another angry spirit left to his own devices.

Damian was hard to see. I had to keep squinting and blinking to get him in focus, and even then he and kept fading in and out of my field of vision. His features were washed out, making his tan skin look whiter than I've ever seen. His once-dark hair, now a lackluster shade of gray, was the only color that stood out against his pale face. He was wearing exactly what I'd last seen him wear, the Robin uniform.

It had only been about a week since his death. His funeral was a few days ago, and I had been dreading this, half hoping I could avoid it in spite of the fact that I knew it would happen. As much as that kid annoyed me, he hadn't deserved to die.

From my own experience, the spirit of the victim of a violent death will often linger for a while before they can find peace. But there was always something wrong to keep them there-a murderer to chase down, or a family to protect. So, simply because of the fact that he was here, the message was clear.

Something was keeping him here.

Looking at him now, the thing that hurt me the most was the look on his face. It was sad, so broken inside. There had been so many things he had left unfinished, so many things he had never had a chance to say. It made my eyes sting with saltwater.

Because I was once in the same situation.

Only I had gone completely unseen. I had only been able to watch as my body was found, cared for, and buried, and pound my fists against the wall-which wouldn't even honor me with a sound in response.

Damian's expression didn't change at first, as he studied me. Then, his eyes narrowed and he wore the same look he always had when he was alive. Serious, arrogant, maybe even a little angry. Several heavy moments hung between us, and then he lifted his hand and extended it towards me.

"What?" I asked him. "What's wrong?" Obviously, there was quite a bit wrong... being dead sort of gets you down; but I thought he had something more to tell me.

Damian opened his mouth, as if to speak. Then he closed it and shook his head, bringing his arm down slowly in a gesture of defeat.

"Can you talk?" I asked. "Or are we going to have to play charades?"

He narrowed his eyes again, and pointed to a picture propped up on my dresser. I stood up and scooped it off my dresser. It was a photograph of Bruce and me on the night I became Robin, when I donned the cape for the first time.

_Best day of my life._

I still remember that moment clearly, as if it was yesterday.

Bruce had grabbed me close and smiled one of his rare real smiles, not the fake ones he put on for the press' cameras. Dick had stood in front of us with the camera and snapped the picture. I was shocked it was still in my room, in the exact place I left it before I died.

"This old thing?" I asked, turning the picture over in my hands to avoid the awakening of more bittersweet memories. "What's so important about this ?"

Damian came closer and pointed at Bruce, and then spoke in a whisper. "The… future… he… saw," He paused, almost as if to catch his breath. Maybe he was just now learning to speak. It takes a while, when you stop using air and have to rely on a ghost's inexplicably shaky manner of speaking.

"Will… come… true…"

_The future?_ I eyed him skeptically. "What do you mean? You were going to become Batman and destroy Gotham, and no offense, but that's not happening."

He shook his head.  
Damian said only one word.

"Clone."

It all fit together perfectly. Of course it wasn't Damian who would destroy the city. It would be one of the clones Talia created, or possibly even the Heretic himself.

My eyes widened at the realization. Damian nodded, noting my reaction.

I put a hand to my forehead. So Damian's murderer was the same person who would, in the future, bring the apocalypse down on all our heads.

Great.

Now we had another problem on our hands. As If losing a brother (he mattered, even if we weren't that close) and all of Talia's Leviathan bullshit wasn't enough, we now had to deal with our own imminent deaths, and a psychopathic murderer taking over as Batman.

"So kid, any chance you can give me any help here?" I asked.

Damian crossed his arms, rolled his eyes and started to fade, blowing away like sand in an invisible, intangible wind.. But not before uttering a lingering

"-Tt.-"


	3. Chapter 3

After my encounter with Damian, I felt a new weight on my shoulders. And with this new information, I did what I was trained to do.

needed to figure out how we were going to stop the clone.

This meant I had no choice but to tell the rest of the family.

Because we were still in mourning, I don't know how they will take it. We all visit his grave every day, but nobody can truly accept that the kid is really gone. Hell, I saw his ghost and I still can't believe that cocky little shit is dead. Looking at the faces of Bruce, Dick and Tim when we were standing together during the funeral, I knew we all felt it.

Failure.

I was twitchy and uncomfortable; the memories of being trapped in a coffin suffocated me. Tim tried to make sense of the situation, but in the end he found he unknowingly had a newfound respect for the kid that he hated; he never believed Damian would lay it all on the line for somebody else, and he admired him for that. Bruce stood rigid, as if he would collapse any moment. With a blank stare on his face, the only hint of overwhelming pain was in his eyes. His son was dead, his flesh and bone, another young child, lost to his crusade.

But Dick, Dick took it the worst.

He just stood there sobbing as they lowered the small coffin into the ground. That kid was Dick's first Robin, his little brother, and in some ways his son. Dick has been blaming himself. If only he could have not have been so stupid to get himself knocked out, he could have saved Damian. He felt guilty because that kid has never known what it felt like to love somebody else; we were never going to see him grow up, to see if he looked like Bruce when he turned 20. Or tease him about his first girlfriend and his voice changing when he hit puberty.

But we had to move on and try to avenge his death, prevent the future of destruction from happening.

The second after it happened I came to the conclusion that the rest of the family needed to know.

So I did the most logical thing. I went to Tim first.

When I found him, Tim was sitting working on a paper on his computer. I walked in without knocking and sat in a chair beside him while he was typing on his computer. "Hey Jason," he said as he continued typing. "What do you need?"

I cleared my throat. "Damian's death didn't change the future." I paused, "The clone that killed him is most likely the one that kills Bruce and becomes the Batman that Bruce saw in the future."

Tim's fingers froze on the keyboard, and he turned to me. "How did you…..?"

"Damian." I cut him off.

Tim's eyes widened. "You…..you saw Damian?" I nodded. "And he could speak?"

"Yup, just barely though. It seemed like he had to force the words out." I said. "I was just minding my own business when he appeared in my room and he warned me about the future."

Tim shook his head "Alright. That settles it, we're telling Bruce and Dick right now."

I pursed my lips. "I came to that conclusion too, but are you sure they are ready to hear that Damian is a ghost floating around the manor and that only I can see him? I'm not sure they are in the correct state of mind for that. They won't believe me."

Tim stood up and walked towards the door. "We're going to make them." He said, "Come on."

I slowly stood up and followed him towards the entrance to the cave. Once we walked down the stairs, and into the main part of the cave I saw something that shocked me.

Bruce stood slouched in front of a glass tube with his forehead touching the surface. It wasn't until I got closer that I realized Damian's Robin costume floated inside the case exactly like my memorial. The look of sadness on his face was overwhelming. I could only hope that with the information I had for Bruce it would help us pick up the pieces.

Dick sat in front of the bat computer, staring at the monitor with tired eyes, typing furiously.

However, they both looked up when they realized we entered the cave.

"Bruce, Dick?" I asked quietly "We need to talk."

* * *

Somehow, we managed to get both of them sitting on the couches that looked really out of place in the cave. Tim sat next to me while Bruce and Dick sat directly in front of us. Once we were all settled, Bruce looked at me with something in his eyes I couldn't name.

"What is it Jason?" he leaned forward and asked.

I cleared my throat, trying to find the right words. Because I'm pretty sure "_Hey Bruce, Dick how are you? Did you guys know I can see the dead?"_ Wouldn't work out too well.

So I decided to wing it.

"Before I tell you guys anything, you both have to promise me to keep an open mind." I asked, "Can both of you do that for me?"

They nodded. "Jaybird, what's this about?" Dick asked.

I looked to Tim for help, he just gave me a look that said, _just tell the truth, I'll help I promise._ I nodded.

"About 6 months after I came back from the dead, something happened that made me realize how bad being resurrected really is." I began, "I've been seeing things, and I can only come to the conclusion that I'm seeing things other people can't. At first, I didn't know what was wrong with me, but after a while I realized that this was just a part of my life I was going to have to deal with. And it was manageable until 3 months ago when I passed out, and Tim had to drag me down to the cave."

I stopped and looked over at Tim who was nodding along with me. "But you didn't hear the whole story, from either Tim or I because I knew you wouldn't believe me. I mean Shit, you guys probably think I'm insane anyway and I didn't need another reason for you to accuse me of lying. But here it is; I can see ghosts."

Bruce and Dick gave me a look. "Jason, you said to keep an open mind. But you actually expect me to believe this. What the Hell are you talking about?" Bruce asked.

"I'm talking about the fact that I saw Damian!" I growled.

Bruce and Dick were stunned at my outburst. "What…?" Dick asked breathlessly.

Bruce abruptly stood up. "Jason, I don't have time for thi-."

"You need to hear this." I said as I made Bruce sit back down. "You **both** need to hear this."

"Bruce, Dick," Tim said "Just hear him out."

"Damian appeared before me not an hour ago, warning me about the future you saw."

Bruce sighed, "What about it?"

"Damian warned me that what you saw will still come true. His death did not change the future. It wasn't him who kills all of us and becomes the Batman that destroys Gotham, It was the clone. That. Killed. Him." I said.

Bruce was silent, I could tell he was trying to figure out if it was possible, when Dick decided to speak up, "How do you know this is really Damian?" he asked. "What if it is just in your head?"

"It's not Dick!" I swallowed. "I've been in his position before! If anyone knows what it is like it's me."

That shut them up, anytime I bring up my death, they know they will never understand.

"What is it like?" Bruce whispered.

I took a deep breath. "It's like being completely ignored. You don't exist anymore, so while you can see things and talk. Nobody can hear you."

"Why you," Dick asked "Why can you see them?"

Tim answered for me, "He's been to the other side Dick, and there is no way you can cross from that world back to ours without it leaving its mark."

Dick gave Tim a confused look, "You actually buy this?"

Tim looked disgusted "You didn't see him when it happened!" Dick's face softened and Tim continued "It's like he's reliving his death again, being able to touch that world, while other spirits try to pull him back with them."

I nodded "And I have no control as to when it happens. Tim and I have been trying to figure out if I am just seeing them randomly, or if there is a pattern to the sightings."

"Have you found anything yet?" Bruce asked

"No." I shook my head, "I don't get them frequently enough. And not all of them are painful and cause me to pass out. I'm still trying to figure out why one sighting caused so much pain, because so far, I haven't had another like that since the first one 3 months ago."

"I think we're done here." Bruce said as he stood up and walked over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. "Thank you for telling us Jason."

"You're welcome B." I said

Dick stood up as well "Jay, I'm sorry for snapping at you. But I have to ask you one thing."

"Sure Dick," I answered

"Was…..Damian okay?" He asked carefully.

I nodded "Yes Dick, he is at peace. Now that he has told me what he needed to, he has no problems. Us on the other hand, ours are just beginning."


	4. Chapter 4

Weeks went by without another Damian sighting. I was partly relieved and anxious, I didn't know how soon another would appear, but I didn't like being kept in the dark about the whole future thing.

After telling Bruce and Dick about the past ghost sightings, they asked me about what I see on a daily basis IF anything actually appears to me on any given day. They want to see if I can see things other than ghosts as well.

Bruce had been working with the new information I gave him and confirmed my theory. Well, not completely, we still needed the evidence that it was the clone for sure that kills Bruce, but we knew for certain, one of these things Talia is creating will destroy everything. Talia is loyal to her father and her father only. She proved that when she ordered for the death of her own son. She may not be following his orders, but she is trying to achieve his dream of total world conquest and all inferior people should be destroyed.

We've gone over what we know dozens of times, when we realized we needed a blood sample of both Damian and the Heretic (The clone that killed him). According to a witness, Damian fought to kill, knowing if he didn't kill this creature, Bruce wouldn't be saved even though Bruce was trying to get back to the lower floors of Wayne Enterprises. Apparently, Damian shoved an arrow through its heart and it didn't even flinch. We've never seen anything like this before, not even from a meta-human. Damian and this clone have the same core genes, but we need to know what Talia juiced this thing up with. There had to be some way to kill this monster.

Bruce sent Dick and me to Wayne Enterprises to retrieve the blood sample from the Heretic. Luckily, Bruce hadn't sent people in to fix the damage done to the building. While it was a bit unstable, it was safe enough for us to search for the sample.

I was there to do a job, to pick up the sample and go. I tried not to look at all of the dried blood that was all over the floor as I looked for the arrow, but I couldn't help but think about my own death. I had to shake off the flashbacks that came to me in the moment I saw the pool of dried blood in the middle of the floor.

So I focused on finding the arrow, there were many around but this one had a bit of tissue still attached to it as well so I called to Dick. "Call B, tell him we have found th-" I cut off when I turned and saw Dick.

I jogged over to him. He was kneeling by the pool of dried blood with tears in his eyes. I put my hand on his shoulder. "Dick, it's okay. Remember what I told you, he's at peace and he sees all of this." I paused, "You didn't fail him. He saved you. I know the entire time you and him were partners, your main goal was to get him to see that he needed to learn to love and care about other people and know that people love and care about him."

Dick nodded and turned to me. "I…I just should have done something. He was my partner." He sucked in a shaky breath. "I guess this is how Bruce must have felt when he lost you."

"Hey," I said as I pulled him to my side "And he will be back, I'm sure of it. There is no way that kid is going to stay dead for long."

Dick smiled slightly. "Thanks Jay, I hope he can find his way back to us."

"He will Dick," I sighed "He will. Now let's get back to the cave so B can analyze this."

"By the way," he added, "I'm glad you came home too." He smiled.

* * *

When we brought it back to the cave, Bruce and Tim were waiting for us.

"We found the sample Bruce," Dick said "Is the DNA scanner set up yet?"

Bruce turned to Dick and nodded. "Here, put the sample in the scanner."

Dick walked up to the computer and placed the arrow on the holder. The scan usually took around 20 minutes, which was faster than any other standard DNA scanner.

As I waited, I walked around the cave. I hadn't actually been down here long enough to see what had changed. I looked at Damian's memorial and placed my hand on the glass surface. That's when I noticed something.

"Where did my memorial go?" I asked Bruce.

"I removed it." He said simply. "Your uniform is still here, but because you are back, I would rather have you here today, than always be reminded of how you died."

A small smile spread across my face. "Thank you," I said. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

Bruce nodded and looked back at the computer.

"Yeah, Bruce wants to take all of our old uniforms and display in the cave." Tim said

I smiled, "Please, please tell me he's got the discowing costume."

"Hey!" Dick shot me a look. "It was a classic!"

"Dick, you had feathers attached to it, _**gold **_feathers!" I laughed.

"Don't forget about the deep V- neck and the collar." Bruce added

"BRUCE! You have no business telling me _my_ uniform was bad! Do I need to break out the original Batman costume designs?" Dick taunted.

"I burned that notebook." Bruce replied without looking at him.

"I made copies." Dick said which earned a glare from Bruce.

"And Jase, don't even get me started. Your original Red Hood uniform was good. Personally, I liked it. But what the hell were you thinking when you put the huge red cylinder on your head? You looked like a huge dildo." Dick said smugly.

"Hey!" Tim cut in "I liked to think him as a giant strawberry push pop." Tim and Dick laughed.

I shot him a glare, "You shouldn't be talking, Condom Man." I replied which sent Dick into another fit of laughter.

"Yeah Timmy! That…. was pretty bad." Dick added while trying to catch his breath. "But still not as bad as dildo head over here." He said as he pointed with his thumb.

"Can it Discoboy." I replied, "At least I didn't look like Elvis decided to go for a more colorful look. Dick, you have so many things to give, but fashion tips are not one of those things."

Tim laughed even harder. "But in all fairness, we all had some pretty messed up costumes." He admitted, "But Dick's was by far the worst."

"Why do you all hate that costume so much?" Dick asked. "It really wasn't that bad."

We all gave him a look "No, It was. Fucking. That. Bad." I said

We were so focused on arguing with each other we didn't notice Alfred and Bruce were staring at us, with small smiles on their faces.

"I do believe it is wonderful that all of the boys are back under the same roof." Alfred said to Bruce.

"I guess, it is…amusing… To say the least, but if they keep bickering, I'm going to need some aspirin."

The loud beep from the computer knocked us out of our bickering and we all walked over to where Bruce and Alfred stood at the computer. We all stood anxiously, as Bruce read out the results. "It has some similarities to Damian's DNA, but it has traces of Lazarus, and a compound that contains kryptonite and an unknown enzyme. Let me cross reference this unknown with all other enzymes in existence, something should come up."

"Kryptonite?" Dick asked, "When did Talia get her hands on Kryptonite?"

"Who knows, I'm sure she's got her ways." Tim replied.

My eyes narrowed as I stared at the screen, Lazarus, kryptonite and an unknown steroid. At least we've got two of the three.

"How do you figure she made the Kryptonite into an enhancement drug?" Tim asked Bruce.

"I've seen it before, Lex Luthor injected himself with liquid Kryptonite and a steroid supplement." Bruce answered.

"But how did Talia get her hands on it?" Dick asked

"Lex isn't very good at covering his tracks, I'm guessing she found it after she took his position as CEO at Lex Corp." I added, "She probably mixed those two things and the Lazarus enzyme together to form her steroid cocktail."

Bruce stood up straight and shut down the computer.

"Alfred, get the Batmobile ready." Bruce said as he pulled on his cowl and turned to us.

"I think it's time we payed Lex Luthor a visit."

**A/N: Sorry this took me so long and it was so short.. I've been crazy busy and I finally had a chance to sit down and finish this chapter up. Hope you all liked it and the next chapter is on its way.**


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